Love In My Eye
by aboywriter
Summary: A short story from after the first games. Katniss doesn't want to sleep alone, which leads to Peeta and her exploring their relationship.


The steaming cup of green-brown tea I grip between my hands holds next to no heat. Not enough to satisfy my needs. My hands were scolded long ago, but it still is not enough.

My leather game bag, filled with animals I shot over the course of the day, lies flatly in the snow at my feet. I have managed to find haven under a thick pine tree, my back up against the trunk, knees tucked tightly into my chest. The occasional needle falls down in a sudden gust of wind and floats on the surface of my tea. I don't bother picking them out.

My trousers give me more warm than the tea. They're from the Capitol, a pair that Cinna happened to conveniently leave behind. Some molecularly altered fabric protects my body from the cold of the snow. Instead I am verging on warm, and not entirely uncomfortable, but my mind tells myself I shouldn't be.

It's been weeks since I slept properly through the night, and I'm paying for it now more than ever. I woke today in the early hours of the morning drenched in a sweat that was sticky and felt disgusting on my skin, which reminded me too much like blood. A nightmare roused me from my slumber. Not that my slumber was peaceful, any way. Dark and vivid memories have taken over my unconsciousness, too.

Somewhere, not so far away, a screech too harmonic to be human rings out around the open sky. A mockingjay. Rue. Pain. Without hesitation, and before the screech has even finished, I steal up my bow and prize an arrow on the string, and release it effortlessly straight into the bird's open mouth. The forest is silent then.

Times of the Games are impossible to shake. I have nightmares of Clove, of President Snow. Thresh and Cato and the Mutts. Sometimes it's me impaling Rue with the spear. It might as well have been. I had not done anything to stop it. I was the one who left her, alone, defenseless...

I hear some footsteps in the snow that startle me. I am concealed behind a tree at least two meters thick, and there is still the fence separating me and my visitor. I hold my breath, wondering what will happen if it is a Peacekeeper.

We have new ones now that I'm back from the games. Our old Peacekeepers were sympathetic, but disliked. They suffered just as much as the people of the Seam. These new ones do not suffer. They are paid well by the Capitol, so do not go without. They do not feel sympathy. If an old Peacekeeper caught me outside the fence, I would probably be let away without even a world, because they want what I have to offer as much as the next person. If this is a new one, certain death is what lays ahead for me.

Katniss Everdeen, the most famous girl in Panem, slaughtered for stealing from the Capitol's ground. The people of the districts will scream for my blood for being so stupid; I can afford to live as well as any Capitol resident, yet I endangered my safety for some peace of solitude.

My suspicions are dropped the moment I hear Prim's voice, though. She doesn't know I'm here.

"Katniss," she calls out into the woods. Into the snow. It's building to becoming a storm. I'm suddenly angry that my mother let her out of the house like this. District 12 is nearing on impossible to navigate in a blizzard.

"What do you want?" I say, feigning a laugh as she jumps at my voice. She looks at me materialising out from behind the tree, and raises one eyebrow.

"You were supposed to be home an hour ago."

"Okay. You caught me. Here," I say, throwing the game bag over the fence. "Take this."

Prim lets the game fall in a bank of snow rather than catching it. I should have known that she wouldn't have attempted to catch it. Prim cannot touch an animal that I have killed. Now the meat will be bruised for Hazelle.

"Nice going," I compliment her, and she just stands slightly on her tip toes, like she's ready to go back to the warmth.

We walk hand in hand as we start our way home. She recounts her day at school, audibly excited when she recounts what she learned.

Prim and I are very different in this aspect. Prim wants to learn everything she can and then some. I want to learn enough for me to survive. I have learnt far too much in the past two weeks, and I would do anything to rewind and forget them all. The uprisings in eight. The fact that I have to go back in the arena. If the Capitol offered me a pill that burned away my memories, I'd take it without a second thought. Or maybe I wouldn't. I have to admit, knowing the fate of the country rests on my shoulders does help me relax a bit, like using a mirror to look around a corner for monsters instead of jumping in front of them blind.

I tell Prim to run home while I drop off the day's haul at Gale's house. Besides, she'd catch her death out here. The poor girl is still so used to being hungry that she hasn't once filled her belly since my winning of the Games.

I beeline for Gale's house, taking the back allies lined with piles of rubbish. I don't particularly fancy a run in with any Peacekeepers holding a bag filled with all sorts of wild birds and plants.

Knocking three times on the back door, I wait there until Hazelle opens it and welcomes me in. I kiss her cheek, and the boys run through to see me.

"Katniss!" They say, and I rub their hair.

"Hey, boys. How are you all?"

But they don't listen to me. I can't blame them. They race straight over to their mother as she sieves through the bag to see what gifts are held within.

Right there, at that moment in time, I realise a life like this would never be what I want. Kids. Me. Doubled over due to a crooked back. Old, scarred hands. Getting excited about things I now take for granted. Never could I have that. I am a product of the Capitol. A slave to the Games. I would never have children and have the possibility of putting them through what I have seen. I couldn't have it. Any of it.

I kiss Hazelle goodbye, and leave her a few coins on the table while she isn't looking. She might refuse it, but I can see that she could do with it. And it's not like I will miss the money.

The snow has evolved into a fully-fledged storm by the time I make it home. My hair is thick with white dusting as I walk though the front door. Even the fur hood of my coat is wet and matted.

"Katniss, you're late," my mother calls through from the kitchen. There is a clattering of pans and the running of water that lend their music to her accusing tones.

"Yeah, so your little minion told me," I call back, which gains a laugh from the Kitchen. I hear Peeta in there, too.

"Wow. This is quite a turnout," I say as I take in the guests. Haymtich, Peeta and his family, Greasy Sae and me and my family make the dinning room seem alive. It has been ages since the place has felt alive.

"So where were you today?" Peeta asks, as I take a seat next to him. He kisses me on the cheek which dyes it red. The blush feels too potent to stop, but I hope it'll pass off as me coming in from the cold.

"Here and there. Nowhere in particular."

"You've been hunting again, haven't you?" Haymitch says as he violently attacks a slab of meat that he drowns in white liquor.

"Have not."

"Then why are your nails all dirty?" I look down and realise they're baked in mud. The blush makes another appearance on my cheek.

"Fine. You caught me."

"Just want you to be careful, sweetheart," he says, and the rest of the guests laugh. I look at him, but don't force a smile. What he meant was _Don't give the Peacekeepers any more reason to kill you, they're just waiting for an excuse._

Dinner is chucked down with conversation about anything. Peeta's talent. My talent—or lack therefore of, I should say. Cinna is the one with the talent. I'm the one with the face and the arms to hold out the dresses he has made that I will claim for my own.

After more than their fair share, Greasy Sae and Peeta's family leave. My mother wraps up what is left of the stew and the bread and gives it to Greasy Sae, which she accepts without even the slightest hesitation.

Peeta tells his parents he wants to stay for a short while longer to talk to Haymitch and I, but after an hour, two, he calls his home and tells them he will stay the night.

The truth is, Peeta, Haymitch and I didn't speak. Not about anything of importance. We gossiped back and forth about certain members of the Seam, but other than that, I didn't want to talk about anything. It felt good to get wrapped up in nothing of importance, because I knew when the sleep came, so would the nightmares.

My mother dismissed herself to bed a short while after Prim did, which left Haymitch to return home. He took the rest of the white liquor with him when he thought I wasn't looking.

Peeta and I sit in the quiet after he goes. I heard my mother get into her bed, and waited an hour or so. Until it was safe to talk to Peeta.

"How have you been?" I asked him.

"Neither here nor there. You?"

"The same."

We both knew what each other meant. Just as Haymitch knew what we meant when he asked us, which was rarely. I'm starting to understand why Haymitch enjoys isolation.

"I'm tired," I said, realising only then what the time was.

"You should sleep. You've had a long day out not hunting." He winks at me, and I mange to laugh. This one isn't forced.

Peeta... The boy with the bread. The boy who could make me laugh even when I felt like curling up and dying. Peeta. Peeta.

"You'll come too?" I ask, and he raises an eyebrow.

"I don't want to disturb the spare room just for a few hours, Katniss. I'm okay here."

"No," I say, shaking my head. "That's... That's not what I meant. I mean sleep with me. Please? You make the nightmares go away." He looks at me again, and just then I see something in his eye. Something I recognise in his Peeta's father's eyes when he looks at Peeta's mother.

"Okay. I'll come."

We don't turn the lights on as we walk upstairs. I count the steps as I walk, in front of Peeta, holding his hand. _Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen..._

We get to my room. He switches the light on, and just when I see the bed, it takes all I have not to collapse straight into it. To feel the warm sheets on my skin.

But I restrain. I resist. I force myself to walk up to the drawers that hold my pajamas. I force myself to strip off the Capitol trousers and the fur hood. I force myself to comb the plait out of my hair, force myself to replait it, and then I force myself to get in bed gently and carefully.

Peeta isn't in there like I expected. I look up, and see he is standing the corner of my bedroom with his hands covering his eyes, facing the wall.

"What are you doing?" I say, and he answers without turning.

"Giving you some privacy." Oh. I forgot about Peeta in trying to complete my routine.

"Well I'm done now." Peeta turns, but still has his hands over his eyes.

"Do... Do you have any of Cinna's old clothes here?" He says, and I'm confused.

"Why?"

"Because I've been working all day in these clothes, and they're not exactly fresh."

"No, sorry. You might be able to fit into one of my nightdresses though."

"I'm good thanks. Purple isn't really my colour. Never mind."

I watch him in the dark as he starts unbuttoning his shirt. He looks up at me and raises an eyebrow.

"Oh, sorry. I'll give you privacy."

"It's not that. I'm just surprised at how far you've come. A few months ago in the games you wouldn't even look at my collar bones." Peeta's words make me flinch. Not because of what he has said, but because of the mention of the Games.

"We're engaged, Peeta. I'm sure I can handle seeing you without a top on."

He takes unbuttons the rest of his shirt with his delicate hands, still standing in the center of the room when he's done.

"What now?" I say, opening an eye.

"Nothing. Well, I need a pair of trousers-"

"For crying out loud, just take them off. I've seen you in your underwear before, remember?" I don't know why I'm suddenly bitter at him. No, not at him. At myself. For remembering that time in the Games...

He does so. He unbuttons his pants and slides them off carefully, folding them over the rocking chair Prim likes to sit on and watch as my Prep Team does my makeup.

His undershorts are different too the ones he wore in the Games. Those ones had clearly been supplied by the Capitol, enhanced and altered beyond comprehension. Probably made so that they repel dirt, just to make the Tributes' lives easier. Ha. These ones look more comfortable, tighter. They look more welcoming than the ones from the Games. Those were cold a frigid.

When I suddenly realise what I'm looking at I snap back to myself and stop it. Peeta stands at the side of the bed opposite me, facing me, looking into my eyes.

"Wow. For someone so used to underwear, you seem to be awfully embarrassed." He laughs slightly, and I kick him in the leg when he climbs between the sheets. Unlucky for me I kick his metal leg, which makes him laugh all the more.

I turn over in rebellion and he laughs even more. The whole bed is shaking with his silent laughter, until eventually he gives in and rolls over to comfort me. His arm wrapped around my body makes me even warmer. Inside and out.

The bare skin of his arm touches mine, and feels magnetic. Like I need it there. His feet, bigger and stronger than mine intertwine with me at the end of the bed.

"This isn't a bad way to sleep," he whispers in my ear, and I silently agree. "Much better than in the arena."

Before I can stop myself I roll over to face him. Our faces barely centimeters away. His breath smells like oranges and mint.

"No more talk about that. At all. You're here to comfort me, not terrorize me. You hear?"

"I hear you. I'm sorry. I just forget that I'm not supposed to talk about it. Sometimes it's the only way I can keep from going-"

I kiss him. Hard. My face pushes into his with all the force I can make. It's the only way I can think to shut him up.

Eventually, he pulls away. Despite my thoughts, it's not what I want.

"And what was for?"

"Shutting you up."

"Well I would have shut up after a second of that, let alone ten minutes." Ten minutes? Was it really that long? Had I lost myself so entirely in him that I lost track of time? And then it clicked. Something inside my clicked like a mechanic work back in the Capitol.

"So what are you proposing?" I say.

"Well, nothing. What can I propose?"

"Peeta, we're engaged. Technically you already _have _propose-"

Peeta kisses me this time. But unlike my kiss to him, his lasts mere seconds. I pull away, and ask him, "And what was that for?" To which he replies, "Stopping you from making a joke that bad."

But I realise that once he's stopped, I want more. I look at him, and this time, instead of one of us attacking the other, we both go in for it at the same time. Slowly, making each moment count.

His lips under mine are full. Firm, but so delicate I fear they'll break under my fierce grip. I close my arms around his neck, feeling just how warm it is.

I have never appreciated kissing Peeta. Before, in the Games, it was a short notion just to get some broth. In the interviews it was a quick peck to satisfy Snow and the brainless giddy residents of the Capitol. Here, alone, in the silence and the warmth, it was just for us.

I roll over on top of him. I take my hands and move them to his shoulders, as he moves his to my back. They find a home there that welcomes them.

His arms are stronger than I ever would have thought. I had seen him lift weights, and I had seen him haul sacks of flour around like they were nothing, but this was different. Every muscle, every fold of his skin. Every single part of him I wanted to explore.

His hands found refuge in the small of my back, under my nightshirt. I moved mine down to his chest. The kissing was quicker now, far more passionate than anything I had ever experienced before. Far more passionate than anything I would have ever expected with Peeta.

And I couldn't stop. When I tried to make my hands peel off his chest, they ended up moving further down. To trace the muscles of his stomach. To feel the hairs under his bellybutton. His hands moved up my back, hanging idly around my bra strap. Just then I pulled away. Pulled off from his lips.

We were both panting, our bodies probably glad for the break for oxygen. He was redder than I had ever seen him, too.

"I'm sorry," he said, but I placed on finger on his red lips. A year ago my hand would have been scarred and twisted from years in the woods. Now they are elegant and perfect and long and warm.

"Don't be," I said, and then I made the first step that resulted as a catalyst. I danced my hands up my nightshirt, and unhooked the strap of my bra. One shoulder strap at a time, I took it off, pulling it out from one of the sleeves. And then we were kissing again.

My hands rested on his chest once more, and his were suddenly showing some of the strength that I knew they had. He wasn't delicate anymore. He showed the absoluteness I knew he had all along. Slowly but surely, he gripped the bottom of my nightshirt and peeled it off me.

Apart from my Prep Team, no one had ever seen me this naked. Granted it was different circumstances, and they viewed me more as a canvas for which they could toy with, but still. The idea of being this bare embarrassed me. Except... Except it didn't. It should have, but it didn't. I felt a surge of fierceness through me that Peeta must have had, and then I was back kissing him with the same intensity as I was before.

His hands traced my back. Every crevice, every hollow. They moved their way up my arms and on to my shoulders, while mine made their way back down his chest.

But they didn't stop. They didn't stop. Gently I made my way even further, to the elastic band of his undershorts. The kissing got quicker, faster. Darker. His breath was oranges and mint. He was lovely beneath me.

My hands loved him. His lower stomach. His muscles. The trail of hair that lead from just under his navel all the way into his underwear. All of him. My hands did not stop for anyone or anything, until they were touching him where I had never touched anyone before. Loving. Caressing. Stroking. It was all the same thing.

Our kissing took over then. I gave myself over to a side I had never seen before. He flipped me over so he was on top of me, in the same position I was in. My hands never stopped exploring him. Eventually his undershorts came off. As did my trousers, my underwear... Until we were Peeta and Katniss in the rawest of forms, together in the dark of night.

We were together. So together. Entirely, absolutely, inexplicably together. We kissed. I kissed him. He kissed me. He kissed me as on the collar bone. The neck. Our bodies were so compatible that we seemed made for each other. We fitted so surely.

I was so happily wrapped up in the moment that it seemed nothing could have ever brought me down. The Games didn't exist when Peeta loved me. Snow didn't want me dead. I didn't have the weight of Panem on my shoulders. Peeta loved me, and I loved him, and as we lay next to each other, panting, naked, chests raising higher and higher, the sheets on the floor, I realised that the thing I saw in Peeta's eye. It was love.

And as if by some act of fate, I felt that same glitter in my eye as we lay next to each other, sleeping, in a peace I hadn't known for weeks.


End file.
